Besides Mrs. Arnold and one or two of the elder children, there were one of the younger masters, young Brooke, who was now in the sixth, and had succeeded to his brother’s position and influence, and another sixth-form boy, talking together before the fire. The master and young Brooke, now a great strapping fellow six feet high, eighteen years old, and powerful as a coal-heaver, nodded kindly to Tom, to his intense glory, and then went on talking; the other did not notice them. The hostess, after a few kind words, which led the boys at once and insensibly to feel at their ease and to begin talking to one another, left them with her own children while she finished a letter. The young ones got on fast and well, Tom holding forth about a prodigious pony he had been riding out hunting, and hearing stories of the winter glories of the lakes, when tea came in, and immediately after the Doctor himself.

How frank, and kind, and manly was his greeting to the party by the fire! It did Tom’s heart good to see him and young Brooke shake hands, and look one another in the face; and he didn’t fail to remark that Brooke was nearly as tall and quite as broad as the Doctor. And his cup was full, when in another moment his master turned to him with another warm shake of the hand, and, seemingly oblivious of all the late scrapes which he had been getting into, said, “Ah, Brown, you here! I hope you left your father and all well at home?”

“Yes, sir, quite well.”

“And this is the little fellow who is to share your study. Well, he doesn’t look as we should like to see him. He wants some Rugby air, and cricket. And you must take him some good long walks, to Bilton Grange, and Caldecott’s Spinney, and show him what a little pretty country we have about here.”

Tom wondered if the Doctor knew that his visits to Bilton Grange were for the purpose of taking rooks’ nests (a proceeding strongly discountenanced by the owner thereof), and those to Caldecott’s Spinney were prompted chiefly by the conveniences for setting night-lines. What didn’t the Doctor know? And what a noble use he always made of it! He almost resolved to abjure rook-pies and night-lines for ever. The tea went merrily off, the Doctor now talking of holiday doings, and then of the prospects of the half- year, what chance there was for the Balliol scholarship, whether the eleven would be a good one. Everybody was at his ease, and everybody felt that he, young as he might be, was of some use in the little School world, and had a work to do there.

Soon after tea the doctor went off to his study, and the young boys a few minutes afterwards took their leave, and went out of the private door which led from the Doctor’s house into the middle passage.

At the fire, at the further end of the passage, was a crowd of boys in loud talk and laughter. There was a sudden pause when the door opened, and then a great shout of greeting, as Tom was recognized marching down the passage.

“Hullo, Brown, where do you come from?”

“Oh, I’ve been to tea with the Doctor,” says Tom, with great dignity.

“My eye!” cried East. “Oh! so that’s why Mary called you back, and you didn’t come to supper. You lost something—that beef and pickles was no end good.”

“I say, young fellow,” cried Hall, detecting Arthur, and catching him by the collar, “what’s your name? Where do you come from? How old are you?”

Tom saw Arthur shrink back and look scared as all the group turned to him, but thought it best to let him answer, just standing by his side to support in case of need.

“Arthur, sir. I come from Devonshire.”

“Don’t call me ‘sir,’ you young muff. How old are you?”